the_debt_of_time

a last minute trip to Diagon Alley for school supplies. She waited for the green flames to
erupt before shouting, "The Den!"
On the other end of the Floo, Hermione stepped out of a shallow fireplace and into
Remus and Tonks's cottage, also known as "The Den." Coughing, she dusted the soot off
her robes before clearing her throat and calling out, "Remus? Tonks?"
The couple had only been married for a few weeks, so Hermione stayed put,
unwilling to creep about their home and accidentally walk in on the newlyweds in a private
moment. She smiled, gazing around the comfortable drawing room. It looked lived in and
warm, like the Burrow, but not nearly as cluttered. It felt quiet and peaceful, like Remus—
subdued in nature, if a room could be such a thing. However, the bright splashes of colour
here and there—in addition to the Auror robes that were flung over the back of a chair—
made it very clear that Tonks lived here.
"Wotcher, 'Mione!" Tonks said as she entered the room from the small, adjoined
kitchen.
Hermione winced at the nickname that Ron had given her. She detested nicknames
and had been vocal about it from the beginning. The only person allowed any deviations
from her full given name was Grawp, because how exactly does one argue with a giant?
Correcting anyone who called her anything other than her name became a futile mission,
and she had given up when it became apparent that her friends were either ignorant of her
wishes or too lazy to say more than three syllables.
Tonks's bright, bubble-gum-pink hair shone even in the shadows of the dimly lit
room that was kept dark by the curtains closed against the rising sun in the distance.
"Sorry. Full moon was last night," Tonks mumbled with a tender smile before
opening the drapes. "He gets headaches sometimes the morning after."
Hermione waved off Tonks's apology and returned the smile. "It's good to see he's
being well cared for."
Despite the momentary lack of faith she once had in regards to her former professor
years ago in the Shrieking Shack, Hermione had always felt a strong sense of concern when
it came to his well-being. She chalked it up to her empathetic nature when it came to all
beings despised by the pureblood supremacists in the Wizarding world. Muggle-borns,
werewolves, elves, goblins, giants, and centaurs: all unworthy of magic. Though she, as a